Acrophobia
by OzGeek
Summary: McGee's fear of heights sees him stuck on a ladder. Tony helps out then Abby attempts to cure him. Three chapters. Slight spoilers for season 5 but nothing plot related.
1. Without a paddle

Acrophobia – Started as an NFA challenge on what McGee does on his weekends and expanded to three chapters.

**Acrophobia **

It was McGee, diligently cataloguing evidence at the crime scene, who spotted it first. Just a subliminal flash of dark blue against the mottled brick wall tickling his peripheral vision, but it was enough to rage him into action. Before he knew it, he was away, tearing through the alley with no regard for the angry refuse that snarled and whipped at his legs.

In his earlier days, he could never have achieved such speed but over the years McGee had honed athletic skills to the point that no fleeing criminal could hope to achieve freedom in his presence.

McGee's excitement heightened as he drew nearer to his target. He could see him clearly now: early twenties, slight build, mousy brown hair – unremarkable in almost every way except the savage manner in which he had killed his victim. McGee was going to enjoy bringing this one down.

Up ahead, a shear building wall loomed promising to trap the low-life like the vermin he was. McGee swore as a ladder appeared out of nowhere, stapled crudely to the side of the building. Like a shot, the criminal was barrelling up the ladder as though it were level ground. A moment later, McGee was aboard too, climbing hand over hand like a man possessed. To his disappointment, McGee saw the young man above him was pulling away. No matter: he'd catch him on the roof. In fact when he reached the top, he'd radio for help. Tony had gone to search the higher floors of the building and it was quite possible that he was close to the roof. A fresh pair of legs couldn't hurt on the chase either.

Suddenly he froze mid stride, the metal ladder shuddering under the change in momentum. He ran the words over again in his mind – "top", "higher", "roof". His eyes dragged his field of view irretrievably downwards to the ground far below.

McGee let out a completely un-manly screech, squeezed his eyes shut and wound his arms tightly around the rungs. His legs, moments ago study pillars of pursuit, became rubbery at the knees. Strong draughts of air shrivelled to ragged gasps of fear.

It took several seconds of blind panic before he managed to pull himself together. Carefully loosening one arm, eyes still closed in denial, he groped for his radio with a sweaty palmed hand. Success! He eased the device from its cradle, mindful that his hand was near paralysed with fear, and slowly raised it to his mouth.

"Tony," he wavered.

"McGee," the hearty voice reverberated around his head. "You sound like you've wet your pants again."

McGee ignored the jibe; there was no way Tony could have known that. "I found him," he said as calmly as he could manage. "In about two minutes he's going to pop up a ladder on the western side of the roof. Are you anywhere near that?"

"Yeah, I'm up here. Too scared to climb the ladder, McGee," Tony scoffed.

"No Tony," McGee started.

Tony cut him off with a yell of, "Got him!", and the transmission cut out.

McGee stood, frozen against the ladder with the radio glued to his ear. He worked on slowing his breathing, imagined he was in a nice safe ground-level place. Tony should have caught the guy by now, he reasoned. Maybe the team would take the bad guy away, forget all about looking for him and he could live out the rest of his life as a wall hermit….

"Where are you Probie?" asked Tony through the radio.

McGee gulped down his fear and tried to answer as casually as possible, "On the ladder." He cursed the unintentional squeak in his voice.

"You're stuck, aren't you?" Tony demanded.

"No," McGee denied. "I'm, not stuck, I'm just …..resting."

"Halfway up a ladder."

"Yes."

"Are you going to be resting long?"

"Um, what year is this?"

"Probie!"

McGee cringed. The voice was not through the radio but spoken directly above him. He didn't dare look up; he could imagine the expression that would greet him. He waited for the taunts but they did not eventuate.

"You're more than halfway up," Tony said pragmatically. "It's easier to come up than go down."

"Not for me."

"You'd rather go down?"

McGee heaved a hopeless sigh. "I don't know….I don't think I can go anywhere." He really didn't want confirmation that his regular nightmares of riding plummeting ladders to the ground were realistic.

"I'm coming, Probie."

Mortified, McGee felt the ladder shake as Tony began his descent. In seconds Tony was above him. McGee chanced an upwards glance and, to his horror, witnessed Tony swing around to the back of the ladder to be sandwiched between the ladder and the wall and continue his climb until they were face to face.

"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it," said Tony incredulously.

"What: me getting stuck on a ladder? Surely you must have…"

"Not that: you're even whiter…like a ghost. Even your ears are white. You gotta agree this height thing is crazy."

"Acrophobia is one of the top 10 phobias, Tony. Studies have shown that it might be innate – other animals suffer from it. It's a survival mechanism to stop us falling off cliffs. It occurs in people who are overly reliant on visual cues or have vestibular issues. When my visual cues diminish at heights, my visual cortex overloads and my balance goes out of whack and.."

"Only you could rationalise an irrational fear."

"I've just been telling you: it's not irrational. There is a perfectly simple, scientific explanation why I can't ever, EVER, go any place high."

"You're ranting, you know that."

"I'm just expressing myself in an exuberant manner."

"Well, McExuberance: no matter what you say, you are still stuck."

"I think the rungs are starting to rust."

"That's because the sweat from your palms is eating away the metal."

"You know that sort of makes sense."

"Hey!"

"What?"

"Stop talking."

"OK."

Tony took a moment to evaluate their position. "I hoped I wasn't going to have to do this again," he said with a resigned tone. "But…"

McGee watched as Tony climbed back up the ladder a few rungs and dug out his mobile phone. He did not use it to make a call, however, instead he focused the camera on McGee.

"I'm going to film you, Probie," said Tony, matter-of-factly. "And you are going to climb up this ladder."

"Give me that." McGee took one step up the ladder before realising what he was doing and melding to the rungs again.

"I'm filming it all, Probie," Tony taunted.

"Stop it," growled McGee through gritted teeth.

"Come and get it. I can put 10 minutes worth on YouTube."

McGee's mouth set in grim determination, his eyes staring daggers at Tony who was standing with one leg on the ladder, gripping the ladder with one hand and filming with the other hand held off to one side. The sight sickened him and he closed his eyes again.

"Come on, Probie," Tony sang. "You know you want it."

McGee carefully executed a deep breath, making sure not to wobble the ladder, then, in a sudden flurry, he wrenched his eyes opened and took three steps towards Tony who scampered nimbly out of harms way.

"Nice try Probie. Tell you what – if you get to the top before the battery runs out, I'll delete the video."

McGee scowled up at Tony and steeled himself for the chase. Another burst and he was almost at Tony's feet before the older agent flitted lightly ahead again.

"Ohhhh, so close, Probie," sang Tony. "You almost had me there. One more…"

McGee howled a war cry and lunged at Tony, catching him unawares. His flailing arm made contact with Tony's legs and for a moment, he thought he had caught him. Then suddenly, Tony disappeared. McGee screeched to a halt, horrified momentarily that Tony had fallen.

"You're at the top, Probie," said Tony above him.

"I am?"

McGee tiled his head up slowly to see Tony's face peering over the roof of the building.

Tony held out a hand. "Come on."

Slowly McGee climbed the last few rungs feeling Tony's hands reassuringly stabilising him as he climbed over the top of the ladder.

McGee crawled away from the edge and sat with his head hanging between his knees drawing deep shuddering breaths. Cold sweat drenched him and deep tremors resonated through out his body.

"You need help, you know that," said Tony, sitting beside him and placing a friendly hand on his shoulder.

McGee hoped Tony couldn't feel how much his body was shaking.

"Yeah, I know," he admitted quietly.

"Or at least get a better phobia."

"Better?" McGee queried, raising his head slightly to look at Tony.

"Yeah I've been looking them up – McGeniophobe has a nice ring."

"You want me to have a fear of chins?"

"Just fits better with your name."

McGee frowned as Tony's face became blurry around the edges.

"Probie?"


	2. Advice

This chapter turned out to have a lot of Ducky in it.

Warning: vague season 6 reference

Oh and it's spelt "sceptical" in Australia

* * *

McGee couldn't understand how it had happened: one moment he was sitting with Tony having a perfectly normal conversation about chin phobias and the next he was lying on the ground feeling cold, clammy and removed from his surrounds with Ducky, Gibbs, Jimmy, Tony and Ziva looking down at him.

"What happened?" Even as the words slipped from his mouth, he knew Tony would know a movie with that line – probably several, it didn't sound very original.

"Your phobia got the better of you," Ducky explained. "In classical terms – you fainted."

"Like a girl," Tony clarified loudly, in case he hadn't got the message.

Ziva quietened him with a gentle elbow to the solar plexus.

"In Mossad," she said, "such psychological fears are eliminated by a technique known as 'flooding'. "You beat the phobia by simply experiencing the worst case scenario. I recommend skydiving or bungy jumping. If you kittyfoot around with ever increasing heights, you just learn to anticipate the fear. This way you have the worst first and then everything else seems minor in comparison."

McGee closed his eyes and let the giddy feeling pass.

"Yes, well as exciting as the full-on experience may be," said Ducky dismissively, "the proven scientific method to rid oneself of an irrational fear is constant, incremental exposure. There was a wonderful chap on the BBC – what was his name – Kevin McCloud. No, not like Highlander, I'm sure there are 'more than one'. In fact he had four children, I believe. He had a show about houses anyway, that's not the point of the story: the houses came later. He used to design interior lighting, probably still does for all I know. Anyway, he had this problem with acrophobia so in 2002 he decided to cure himself and make a TV documentary at the same time by climbing a series of famous landmarks. He did Salisbury and Liverpool Cathedrals, Jodrell Bank Observatory and the Lowell Telescope, among other things. Lucky he didn't try Green Bank Telescope: that one collapsed in a screaming heap of tortured metal only two years before he climbed the Lowell. 'Don't look down', I believe he called it."

"Did it work?" asked McGee skeptically.

"I haven't a clue," said Ducky absently, "but he made a fortune out of it. Now where were we?"

"Curing McGee," said Tony breathlessly.

"Repeated exposure worked for me," Jimmy piped up. "I beat my claustrophobia by staying in a paint locker for thirty minutes a week."

McGee frowned, "What could you possibly do in a paint locker for 30 minutes?"

Jimmy's eyes darted furtively around the group who all now seemed inordinately interested in his locker time. "Um, er, things."

Ducky gave Jimmy a worried glance and returned his attention to McGee. "Well, I think a visit to professional psychiatrist may be in order," he said authoritatively, "and don't let Miss Scuito talk you into another of her DIY hypnosis clinics. Mr Palmer hasn't been the same since – he keeps listing the details of victim's shoes on the autopsy reports."

"They were red leather with silk stitching," said Jimmy defensively. "Size 7 ladies..."

"You good to go?" Gibbs asked McGee, ignoring Jimmy who had started to day dream.

"I'm good, boss. My ego's a bit dented but the rest of me is fine."

Gibbs held out a hand and hauled McGee to his feet.

"The elevator, this time I think," Ducky suggested. "To quote Shakespeare, 'La_y _on McGee, and damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'' " Then he considered. "I suppose that would be "cries, 'Hold me!' to get the rhyme and rhythm correct but don't go getting any ideas. In any case: to the lifts."

"Lifts?"

"Oh my: elevators, not lifts. It's been a while since I made that mistake. Yes, when I first came to America I remember saying I needed a lift and someone told me I was looking 'mighty fine' today. Of course that was because I was getting so much exercise from never being able to find a blasted lift. Then I learnt the word 'elevator' and my world transformed over night."

As they waited for the arrival of the elevator that would deliver them to terra firma, McGee turned to Gibbs. "Do you really think I should see a psychiatrist?" he asked.

"Nope," said Gibbs succinctly. "I think you should treat it like any other thing you don't like doing."

"How's that?"

Gibbs turned to Tony. "DiNozzo: I need a sample of that bird dropping on the top of the ladder for analysis."

Tony, in turn, looked at McGee, "Probie…." he started.

"Now, Tony," said Gibbs.

Tony turned to Ziva.

"In your dreams," she replied to the unspoken question.

Tony sighed and grabbed a pair of gloves and an evidence bag.

"See," said Gibbs. "Get promoted off the bottom rung and delegate."


	3. Virtual Abby

This was the chapter I posted on NFA. Note I only said Abby tried to cure him, not that she succeeds.

* * *

**Virtual Abby**

McGee sat at the sturdy wooden desk writing frantically on a crisp white sheet of paper, his typewriter silent beside him. It was a cool Saturday evening, mellow jazz wafted around the room. A dog lay peacefully on the mat by his feet, the tangy scent of its fur blending with the fading aroma of left-over spaghetti bolognaise.

He had almost developed the plot for the next chapter of his upcoming novel. It involved a Top Secret Navy radar sporting the acronym P.U.K.E. He hadn't yet worked out what the letters were going to stand for but there was time for that. In his story, the radar worked well except for one little bug: every now and again it would emit a burst of extraneous signals known as "diced carrots" because they were always present in the PUKE but no one knew how they got there. Before the Navy is able to solve the problem, the radar is stolen and Amy and McGregor have to build a device to hunt down the carrots – its unique signature.

McGee groaned and sat back in his chair. This was getting ridiculous. He needed to reflect the reality of the actual NCIS case without it seeming too obvious. PUKE and carrots were probably not going to get him there. The problem was the real names were Top Secret – though the 'carrot' name part was true. He debated whether it was better to steal someone else's vomit/carrot joke blatantly or risk a security breach explaining the whole story and apportioning credit. Probably the former, he decided - he wouldn't be charged with treason.

It was almost a relief when his train of thought was interrupted by a harsh knocking at the front door. Jethro jumped to his feet ready for action, his tail wagging excitedly.

"Stop typing and let me in, McGee," demanded Abby's voice, muffled through the door. "I have something that will change your life."

Jethro bounded joyfully across the room but McGee hesitated. This could be good: really, really good (he could think of many Abby-related possibilities) or it could just be hyper-Abby exaggeration. He sighed deeply: there was only one way he was going to find out.

"Finally," Abby said in exasperation as he relented and let her in.

Jethro stood on his hind legs, front paws on her chest, tongue desperately straining for her face.

"Not that I don't love to see you," McGee started "but…"

"You were working on your book, I know but this is going to change your life."

"You said that already."

"Well, I'm saying it again because it's that good." She settled the dog and held up a DVD. "A present from Ducky."

"Ducky is going to change my life?"

"Oh yeah. This is a virtual reality acrophobia program. Ducky studied it in his psychology course."

"Abby, I don't need to simulate acrophobia for those times when I'm just too busy to find a place to terrify myself."

Abby slapped him on the arm. "It's the cure. Virtual reality programs have been scientifically proven to reduced or even eliminate acrophobia."

McGee eyed off the deceptively friendly DVD nestled snugly in its shiny scratch-free plastic case. "How?"

"It exposes you to your worst nightmare but in perfect safety. It means you can experience the panic but not put yourself in danger. Studies show people are more willing to experience simulated acrophobic situations than real ones. By exposing themselves more, people get de-sensitized and eventually they get cured in real life."

"That sounds crazy."

Abby narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, it's not: virtual simulations can invoke real life responses to relevant scenarios. You know how you can get motion sick on those really grainy black and while roller coaster videos?"

"Don't remind me."

"Well, it's like that."

Abby strode to McGee's computer, ejected the DVD inhabiting the drive and inserted her own."

"Hey, I was playing that!" McGee complained.

"No playing, we work now."

McGee scowled at her.

She scowled back. "Do you want to beat this thing?"

McGee's scowl held out for a moment longer before he relented. "Yes. What do I have to do?"

A huge smile crept over Abby's face. "First we have to make sure you are relaxed so you don't tense up."

"This is going to involve scented candles, isn't it?"

Abby looked up from digging through her purse. "Oh yeah."

"What is the deal with you and candles?"

"Aromatherapy: so you'll have something to inhale while you're listening to your relaxing music and meditating.

"While I'm what?"

"Ah here!" Abby held up a CD and nodded towards McGee's phonograph. "Turn off that porno sound track …"

"That's jazz!"

"… and I'll start up the relaxation music."

McGee grabbed her wrist and moved the CD into focus. "Sounds of ocean waves," he read off the cover. "Oh great: now I can be sea sick as well as scared out of my mind."

"Don't be silly. You're not actually on a boat – it's just the audio."

"Virtual simulations can invoke real life responses to relevant scenarios," McGee quoted back at her, smugly.

Abby considered his argument momentarily. "OK, you win. Break out the pan pipes."

McGee smiled victoriously and headed off to the CD player, trailed by a curious Jethro.

"But you still have to kill the porno track."

"It's jazz," McGee called out.

* * *

When all the candles were lit and all the pan pipes a-piping, Abby sat McGee down on his ergonomic computer chair in front of his industrial-sized monitor and ran the program.

"Let's check out the menu." She scrolled down the selection. "You start on a chair, then a ladder, two story building, yada, yada, yada. Hey: Indiana Jones Bridge of terror! I'm going there first."

"No!"

Abby shrugged apologetically. "Sorry. Hmmmm, let's start with …"

"Second storey," McGee suggested.

Abby shot him an incredulous look. "Second?"

"Yes"

"OK, but I think you're wimping out here."

She selected 'second floor' from the menu and McGee's enormous screen filled with a photo clearly taken from a second storey balcony down into a courtyard. McGee said nothing, not a sound. No pathetic whimpering: nothing.

"See," said Abby finally, "nothing. I told you second floor is too easy. McGee? McGee! It works better if your eyes are open."

McGee un-scrunched his eyes and chanced a glimpse at the screen. Emitting an almost ultra-sonic yelp that brought Jethro to attention, he clamped his eyes shut again.

Abby took a deep breath. "OK, here's where the relaxation comes in."

"You can relax all you want, don't mind me," said McGee. "I'll be sitting here with my eyes shut."

Suddenly he felt Abby's clawed hands land upon his shoulders, her fingers hard against his tense muscles. Slowly she wedged her fingertips between the muscle layers beneath his skin. It hurt like crazy but there was no way he was going to tell her that.

"Just relax," said Abby, "and listen to the waves…ah pipes. Take deep breaths, absorb the aroma."

Despite himself, McGee found that, after a while, his shoulders and neck no longer screamed in pain as Abby's fingers kneaded, no matter how hard she drilled.

"Now open your eyes."

McGee opened his eyes and took in the picture before him. It was scary, there was no doubt, but the overwhelming tinge of panic was gone.

"I'm doing it," he breathed, not daring to speak too loudly lest he break the spell.

"I knew you could," Abby encouraged. "Now let's go up a floor."

"No!" his shoulders tensed again

"Shhh, only a little," Abby promised. "I'll be right here."

She leaned over and clicked the navigation sidebar. The image changed abruptly and McGee suddenly felt very dizzy. He rubbed his moistening palms against his pants in long strokes.

Abby was behind him again, soothing and cooing as she stroked him.

"You're sounding like Jethro on a hot day, McGee," Abby warned. "Slowly, slowly."

He slowed his breathing trying to ignore the temptation to close his eyes every blink. Instead he blinked more. No matter how long he looked or how much he concentrated, the image on the screen never quite looked stable.

"It's not working," he said quietly. "It's still making me giddy."

"But you're not panicking," Abby pointed out.

"No, but… I don't think I'd cope in real life."

"Let's try one up."

"You're kidding me?"

The sudden change in image answered his question. A surge of panic washed over him and he gripped the desk with his sodden hands. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!" he cried.

The image evaporated to a friendly background screen.

"That was great McGee!"

"Great?" McGee panted, trying to wrench his hands from the desk. "In what way was that great?"

"It was progress!" said Abby happily. "Tomorrow, we'll try it again and after a while you'll be able to do it all by yourself. All you have to do is learn the relaxation techniques. Is there nothing computers can't do? Can you think of a better way to erase acrophobia from your life forever?"

"Yes, I've decided to go for the most popular method in the world: avoidance."

--The end --


End file.
